Yucky Fish

Writer's Block is Like the Tooth Fairy

It's not real but if you think about it too much you'll get freaked out

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Novel broke my brain...mechanic says it'll take two weeks to order new parts
sporking
jasminehammer
My head hurts, and my eyes hurt, and the wine is making it worse, not better. I have officially had a writing retreat day. I have been on and off the computer for about 11 hours now.

I should have gotten way more done.

I am a slow writer, as always, and I wasn't especially focused today--this novel has felt like digging in frosted ground with a plastic shovel from the beginning. I continue to hope that this is a good thing, that I am breaking down writing barriers I never even knew I had to become a better writer. These things don't come easily after all.

And now, a first draft snippet for you loyal readers out there (non-loyal readers, please avert your eyes):
The rusty pump jutted out of the ground at a slight angle, like a stray eye tooth. The ground around it had been trampled into mud by snow and feet and slopped-over buckets of water, but a single gray plank was laid across it from the harder ground of the alley to the front of the pump.
Tater took a step out of the alley towards it and immediately a creature stepped in front of her. She couldn't tell if it was a man, woman or a bear stuffed under the giant buffalo coat standing in front of her. Probably a man, since a bear would be quite noticeable in the city and it was unlikely a woman could be seven feet tall. Its head was covered in a fur cap, however, that looked suspiciously like a lady's. A scarf covered their face and a cap shaded their eyes. It held out a leather-mittened hand to her.
"I'm s-s-sorry," Tater squeaked. "I don't have any money." She looked up at the creature with wide, innocent eyes and then tried to step around it.
Which, of course, was never going to work. The creature put out a hand to stop her, but instead of grabbing her shoulder like she expected, it put its hand firmly but gently on the side of her face and held her there.
Tater froze in shock. It was an oddly unthreatening gesture, but even more frightening by its intimacy. The mitten smelled of old leather, like a sweaty saddle.
She stepped backwards, out of the creature's grasp.

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